


Freckles and Rusty Armour

by Cyntax_Error



Category: Disenchantment (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drama, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Love, Lust, Slice of Life, Smut, Wholesome, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyntax_Error/pseuds/Cyntax_Error
Summary: A series of one-shots for the Beandergast pairing.
Relationships: Bean | Tiabeanie/Pendergast (Disenchantment)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Spring Serenade

Spring. A time where the snow and cold of winter melts beneath the warm rays of the sun, giving way to new life in the land of Dreamland. Young bucks and filles that clung to their mother for warmth in the winter were now grown and off to start their own families. Flowers that shrivelled up and died now serve as fertilizer for the new generation to spring up from their decayed corpses, and bloomed brightly towards the sun. It was also the time said flowers would release spores of pollen, the trees would let go of their seeds in forms of fluffy white clouds, and the mouldy earth beneath the heaps of snow were now exposed to the wind.

For some, Spring was a time of renewal. A fresh start; a time for young men to galavant wherever with their randy attitudes. For others, it meant allergies. And allergies, for a time death was most often a cure for the common cold, seemed on par with the plague.

For the particular princess of Dreamland, Spring meant hiding beneath her covers and wishing for death. 

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Bean seemed to be the only one in the castle who suffered as greatly as she did. Sure, Bunty exhibited the sniffles on a windy day when the tree seeds would find their way inside the castle, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Bean’s symptoms. Since the first day of the season, she spent her days locked up (willingly this time) in her room, a heavy towel draped over her head, hunched over a pot of very hot water with peppermint leaves soaking in the water atop a table.

She heard a knock, more like several scratches, at the door. She raised her head slightly, swallowed the mucus forming in her sinuses back and called, “Come in!” She quickly dove back beneath the towel.

The door to her room swung open, and in strolled her two knee-height lackies - one with a cup of tea in his hands, and the other devious one with a bundle of field flowers in his arms.

“‘Sup, Bean stew?” Luci nonchalantly greeted her and kicked the door closed behind him. He jumped up onto the table the pot of hot water sat upon, while Elfo stepped carefully, trying his best not to spill any of the tea.

“Bean stew sounds amazing.” Bean muttered to herself from beneath the towel.

“I brought you some tea!” Elfo exclaimed as he made his way towards the table, and held up the cup so Bean could see it from the gap between the towel and the table. She reached down for it and sniffled, “Thanks so much, Elfo.” She attempted to sniff it from beneath her towel, but her nose was plugged. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her dear elf friend, but she wondered if he had anyone help him make the tea, and if not, what even was it? Instead she dumped it into the pot and made a slurping noise.

Elfo clapped his hands together and beamed at her. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s delicious. Mm,” she hummed and passed the now empty cup down to him.

“Oh hey, I got you a little something, too.” Luci said from his lounging position on the table.

“Really?” Bean lifted the towel with curiosity, but was met with a swift face full of flowers. She groaned and swatted the bouquet away, and dove beneath her towel once again. “That’s not helping.” She growled.

Luci shrugged, and tossed the bouquet over his shoulder. He didn’t much care that they laid ruined on the ground. “Whatever. I heard you humans usually like flowers when you’re sick.”

“It’s the flowers that are making me sick!” Bean gulped back more mucus. “Can’t you hear how nasally I sound?”

“You mean you don’t sound like that normally?”

Bean shot a fist out from under her towel, sending Luci flying into the wall with a pained grunt. “Just leave me alone to die.” Bean grumbled.

Elfo gasped at Bean’s dramatics. “But you can’t die! Here,” Elfo gently placed the cup on the ground and pulled at the skirt of her nightgown. “a walk will make you feel better!”

“No, it won’t.” She gathered the skirt of her dress up and pulled it from Elfo’s grasp, causing him to teeter forward. “I get like this every year. Only time helps.”

“Does that mean you won’t come with us to the party?” Luci scampered over from where he slid down the wall. “It’s the spring madness party.”

Bean groaned loudly. “Don’t remind me.” She whined. Her teenage dramatics seemed to be amplified any time she found herself sick. “Hey,” she poked her head out from the towel, revealing her frizzy locks. “do you guys mind coming back later? I- I don’t feel good.”

“But-“ Elfo was about to refute her request, until Luci hopped off the table and tackled the elf to the ground. “Hey!” He cried. “Quit it!”

Luci tumbled forward, forcing the elf onto his back. “Come on, Elfo,” Luci stressed his name with a hiss. “we got planning for the party.”

“No we-“

Luci stood from the elf’s body and pulled him along towards the door. Elfo kicked and whined the entire time he was dragged along, until they were out the door, and his cries of protests were muffled.

Finally in peace, Bean sighed. Her back was beginning to feel sore from being hunched over the pot all morning. She pulled the towel from her head and stood from her seat, then gave her limbs a good stretch.

She looked down at her nightgown. The sweat-stained garment made her feel dirty and disgusting. She pulled the nightgown over her head and opted not for her usual trousers/tunic combination she was so fond of, but instead a different nightgown that seemed to resemble a daytime dress better than the blue wool gown. She made her way to one of her wardrobes and slipped on the pink gown that ended just above the ground, skirting around her toes. The tulle beneath the skirt and transparent fabric of the sleeves were, remarkably, not as itchy as it looked. Although, the style was certainly outdated by a few years, as evident by the scoop cut neckline and the sleeves of the dress that hung just off the edge of her shoulders.

She gave her white hair a fluff and shrugged at her reflection in the mirror. She had hoped the soft, light pink would make her irritated red eyes and stuffy red nose look more demure, but instead amplified the flush in her face. Oh well. It mattered not, not when she would be blushing soon from the wine she craved.

Bean poked her head out of the crack in the door. She would prefer not to be seen by anyone, not when she felt so sickly and bloated, with liquid seeming to run from every orifice in her face. She slipped out of her bedroom and quickly stepped down the spiralling stairs of the tower, and towards the sitting room that housed the family favourite’s variety of alcohol.

In the sitting room, with a small bar in one of the corners of the bright, sunny room, and a divination table in the centre, Bean made her way behind the bar to grab a bottle of wine. She preferred the sweeter variety. “Come to mama.” She whispered giddily to the bottle. It only took her a second to decide between a glass, or to drink straight out of the bottle. She pryed the cork free with her teeth and spat it out across the room before taking a large gulp of the wine.

She sighed, and looked dreamily at the bottle. “Oh, that’s good.”

The stuffy princess decided to take a seat on one of the chairs at the divination table, and bask in the warm sunlight as she drank her wine. The sun on her skin felt good after staying locked inside and away from any living being for several days. The odd tuft of pollen floated in, but any care Bean had was slowly being drained by the comforts of the sun, and the slow intoxication of alcohol.

Suddenly, drifting closer to the open balcony, the soft plucking of a lute was heard from down in the courtyard. Curious, Bean placed the bottle of wine down on the divination table, and made her way toward the balcony. There in the courtyard, a Knight on horseback, dressed from the waist down in greaves but the waist up in a tunic, strummed at the instrument and sang along to the tune,

_“As I walked through the meadows  
to take the fresh air,  
the flowers were blooming and gay,  
I heard a fair damsel so sweetly asinging  
her cheeks like the blossom in May.”_

The Knight, as he sang his song, proded the horse with the heel of his boots, encouraging the black horse to start into a gentle trot around the courtyard. He leaned off the saddle to throw a cheeky grin and a brow waggle to the men who worked the yard. Bean couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the Knight reveling in the attention. She looked closer and recognized that dirty copper hair. Sir Pendergast rode around, serenading the men in the yard, as they heckled him in return.

_“Said I, pretty maiden, how came you here  
in the meadows this morning so soon?”_ He removed the hand that strummed the lute to extend towards a man who stopped pitching hay to watch Pendergast’s peacocking. The man lifted a limp wrist to his forehead and pretended to nearly faint, as the other men in the yard laughed at the display. Bean couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. She was unaware of how popular the captain was with the workers of the castle. She wouldn’t admit it, but she found herself happily wrong at the old idea she had of him - quiet and crass.

_“The maid she replied: for to gather some May,  
for the trees they are all in full bloom.”_ He gave the hay pitcher a wink then returned to strumming his lute. 

_“Said I: Pretty maiden, shall I go with you,  
to the meadows to gather some may?  
Oh no, sir, she said, I would rather refuse,  
for I fear you would lead me astray.”_

It was then that Pendergast looked up from the men he serenaded towards the castle, and spotted a pale figure in pink on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. It was his princess, leaning against the balcony and watching him with, what looked like from his distance, a glowing pink flush to her cheeks and a toothy smile across her face.

Suddenly a mix of anxiety, excitement and embarrassment all plagued Pendergast, and a much deeper shade of red surfaced on his cheeks. Nevertheless, Pendergast cleared his throat before continuing his song, only now he directed it towards the one he sought approval of.

_“Then I took this fair maid by the lilywhite hand;  
on the green mossy bank we sat down;  
and I placed a kiss on her sweet rosy lips,  
while the small birds were singing around._

_And when we arose from the green mossy bank,  
to the meadows we wandered away,  
I placed my love on a primrose bank  
while I picked her a handful of may.”_

The song died in Pendergast’s throat come the final verse. He stopped, knowing full well the musings of marriage towards the princess was borderline treason, and instead ended his song prematurely.

He couldn’t pull his stare away from her. She looked at him with, what he hoped was, love in her eyes, and she appeared to be… crying? Her eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and looked to be wet. The nervous smile he had plastered on his face through the final verses now dipped into a worried frown. She seemed to notice this, for Bean quickly wiped her eyes, gave him an awkward thumbs up, and fled back inside. Little did the Knight know that his princess suffered terribly from being outside when she was allergic to the world.

“Oi!” The call came from a stable hand. “Got any more songs, lover boy?”

The young man’s call pulled him out of his haze, and immediately a grin perked up on his face. His fingers plucked the lute strings again, this time at a faster pace.

_“Mister Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note,  
came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat.  
Said he, "Sure, of goat's milk I mean to have my fill!"  
but when he got his Nanny home, he found it was a Bill…”_

So dearly did he wish to finish his song for the princess, and promised himself that one day, in private, he’d sing the final verse.

_Then early next morning I made her my bride,  
that the world might have nothing to say;  
the bells they did ring and the birds they did sing,  
and I crowned her my sweet Queen of May._


	2. Escapism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sitting on this one-shot for a month. I became so tired of staring at it in my docs that I quickly finished it, gave it a once over, and now it’s out. I apologize for lack of quality.

Zøg had just finished disrobing out of his formal attire and into his night robe when he heard a noise from outside. It was an old, familiar creaking noise that came from the bottom hinge of the iron gate that led into the old stone cloister of the private section of the gardens. No balconies overhung the garden, so Zøg peered out the window facing the private garden.

There, dressed in her oversized blue ball gown, and her hair reflecting lunar brilliance, Bean poked her head from the archway of the open arcade to search for anyone who might have escaped the stuffiness of the party. She gathered her skirt up, revealing her comfortable bulky boots, and waddled her way towards one of the stone benches that faced south. The southern stone wall of the garden was shorter than the other surrounding walls, revealing the dark sea. Zøg watched his daughter sit and stare out at the waves.

But then a figure stirred from the shadows. It was a knight - captain of the guard, to be specific - in the same dress uniform he wore to attend the ball. He caught Bean’s attention. She waved him over and scooted towards the edge of the bench to allow him room to sit.

They sat in silence for a moment. Zøg watched on, curious to see what would come of this meeting. His daughter cleared her throat, before finally looking toward the knight and saying… something. He couldn’t quite hear. As they spoke, they leaned closer towards one another. It was this gesture that Zøg took as his cue to leave the young ones alone.

-

Bean played with the ample length of her skirt, bunching up the silky material between her fingers. She didn’t mind the silence. Actually, Bean was relieved to be pulled out of the hot ballroom and away from one particular suitor that was attempting to track her down all night to speak with her. So far she had been successful in evading him, but there were too many close calls for her comfort.

She glanced to her right, sneaking a look towards Pendergast. He looked nice in his dress uniform, she supposed, but preferred his more rugged daily look. Pendergast stared across the sea, taking no apparent initiative to talk to her.

Bean blew a stray hair out of her face, and began in a quiet tone, “So… what’s up?”

Instead of answering, the furrow in his brow deepened. Bean knocked her knee against his, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Hey, what’s up? Why’d you ask me to come out here?”

Little did Bean know that the moment he requested her presence alone in the private gardens, Pendergast had been running his mind rampant, all to come up with a valid enough reason to meet Bean in private.

“I- Uh-“ He kicked himself mentally for having the eloquence of a donkey.

“Oh, wait, wait! I have just the thing!” Bean waved him to stop. He was bewildered by the sight before him: Bean, elbow deep in the bust of her bodice, digging around for something with a tongue poking out between her lips.

“There we go!” Bean heaved a satisfied sigh as she pulled her arm back out to reveal a rather beat-up flask. “For a dress with a corset, there’s a surprising amount of room to store stuff in there.” She chuckled to herself and offered Pendergast the flask. “Alcohol helps me feel less nervous, so I thought it would help you, too.”

He looked between the old flask that was being offered to him, and the kind albeit awkward half-grin half-smile Bean was giving him. She looked positively radiant in the most Bean-way possible.

Pendergast let out a breathy chortle before accepting the flask. “Is it that obvious?” He unscrewed the top and took a sip of its contents. Rum, warmed by being pressed against Bean’s body all night, filled him with a comforting feeling.

Bean shrugged and redirected her attention back to the sea waves. “Yeah, a little bit. I don’t blame you. It’s… weird, being alone with someone after spending hours surrounded by other people who just suck the air out of my lungs.”

Pendergast raised a brow, and feigned a grin. “Claustrophobic, Princess?”

“Not normally! I’m just happy to be out of there, I guess. The air feels better out here.” Bean raised a hand to tousle her hair. “A-Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

Fuck.

Pendergast lowered the flask after taking another sip, and cleared his throat. “I… You- uh, the ball- reprieve!” He suddenly exclaimed. He awkwardly laughed upon noticing Bean’s surprised expression and hurried his words along. “I was given time off from duty for the rest of the night to enjoy the ball, and I heard there was that foreign prince visiting. I thought you might have wanted reprieve.”

Nailed it.

“Oh.” Her awkward smile turned to one of subtle wistfulness. “That was really cool of you. Thanks.”

Her hollowed tone worried him. She was staring out into the sea again, looking even more morose than when she entered the garden. Pendergast took several deep gulps of the spicy drink before clearing his throat yet again.

He could feel his legs shaking, and his grip on the flask was faltering. He gripped the flask, hard, creating indents in the metal.

“That wasn’t all I asked you out here for, Tiabeanie.”

“Yeah? And what would that be, Sir Pendergast?” She said his name in a mocking tone, playfully referring to how they both agreed to drop formalities.

“Bean.” He corrected himself. “The ball wouldn’t have been a very good place to request this of you, so I wanted to spend time with you here. Alone. Alone, so that you didn’t have to make laps around the ballroom every two minutes to evade Prince Hedgeshire.”

“I’m glad you didn’t ask me to dance.” Bean said as she hiked up the large skirt of her dress to reveal her usual heavy, dark leather boots. “These bad boys definitely aren’t made for that. I also just can’t dance.”

“If it makes you feel better, I probably wouldn’t have been able to feel your heavy, clumsy steps on my feet through my boots.”

Bean gave him a forceful, yet playful, shove on the arm and laughed. “As if! What makes you think I’d want to dance with you?” Bean snatched up the flask from Pendergast, and took a deep drink.

“I’m certain you would dance with anyone except the Hedgeshire Prince.”

“No, not anyone.” Bean took this opportunity to scootch closer to Pendergast on the stone bench, and lay a head against his upper arm. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her, but she thought it best not to mock him. Instead, she offered the flask back to him. “If you wanted to hang out, you should have found me outside the castle. You’re one of my dad’s men, right now.”

“Technically I’m off duty.” He pointed out before taking another drink. The rum was nearly depleted. “I didn’t call you here to “hang out”. I…” His stomach flipped and tied itself into knots, and the rapid pounding of his heart left him nearly gasping. He knew there was no other time like this, and that there may never be another time to truly be alone with her, without the pressure to return to post or sneak away without being caught. “I- I-“

“Night’s dying, Pendergast.” Bean nudged the heel of his boot with the toe of hers. “Just say it. Promise I won’t run away.”

“You say that in jest,” he whispered, “but that’s comforting. I… have a confession to make.” He said, only a little bit louder than a whisper. “I-“

Love? No, too strong. Like? No, too juvenile. Adore? Perhaps, but-

“I’m fond of you.” He decided. “So much so, I… think I may have feelings for you.”

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, between them. His words hung heavy in the air and echoed around his mind. Finally, Bean sat up from leaning against him to look him in the eye, and a raised a pale brow.

“Yeah, and?”

He nearly suffered a heart attack right there.

“A-And?” He stuttered, his complexion now a deep scarlet. “Princess, I confessed to my feelings for you. Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah, but I already knew that.” She shrugged. “Everyone knew that.” A playful grin grew on her face. “We went on a date, we had that… thing, you know, after you came back from getting Tess - weshouldreallydothatagain - um, you also bought me flowers- oh! And you also confessed your love several times before, while drunk.”

It was official: his heart stopped. Exasperated and now a deeper shade of red that was never thought possible, he sputtered out. “I did what? No- No, no, wait- what did I- what did you say?”

“I think I patted you on the head and asked the other guys at the pub to drag you home. I’ve been waiting for you to confess sober, and it only took you… a couple months?” Bean softly chuckled. “Not bad.”

“You knew-“ Pendergast’s voice began quietly. “You knew all this time, yet you didn’t say anything?”

Bean took the very last drink of the remaining rum from her old flask. Once empty, she tossed it aside over her shoulder and dug around her in dress for her backup flash - and leaving Pendergast unanswered and on edge.

She took a drink, then handed it to him. He accepted, but didn’t pull his anticipated stare away from her.

“I… guess I was going to,” she shrugged. “but… I dunno. I figured you didn’t mean it, at first. Then I noticed how you acted aloof around me sometimes, and I thought you were embarrassed. Then you did it again, and again, and each time after you seemed to get… flirty, or something? If you can call your tacky pick-up lines flirting.” She shouldered him gently in an attempt to lighten the mood. It worked, but only for a moment.

“Then what happened?” He whispered.

The little smile she had on her face turned to a somber look. “I knew you liked me, after that. I liked you, too, but…”

Bean sighed. “But you never let me get to know you!” Her voice raised in frustration. “You’re- You’re just a guy, doing his duties as a knight. You were like, what, sixteen when you started here as an actual knight? You’re older than me, Pendergast, you got to see me do dumb stuff - okay, dumber stuff - as a teen, and you would always put a stop to that. I thought we could be buddies because you were still so young, like I could have a- a friend in the castle.”

Bean looked up to meet his gaze. “The only times you let me be a friend, and sometimes more than a friend, to you was outside the castle. That, like, almost never happens.”

She looked away to the ocean waves that gently beckoned to her. Their sound always calmed her. It was as if the sea allowed her to navigate her own head. “If… Maybe, if we could go back in time and be more like friends, then we-“

“Stop.” His voice cut through the languid noise of waves in the distance and her own rambling. “Please. I understand. We’re not meant to be.”

She didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t, not when she could hear the slight wavering in his voice.

“I’m sorry-“

“No, no, please, don’t apologize.” He insisted, then gave a breathy laugh. “You gave me opportunities to have something with you. I see now I was too busy getting your father’s approval that, despite my feelings, I pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

He finally realized he was holding another, much more full, flask. He drank deeply from it, and in his now clouded mind of “what if?” questions, an idea came to him. He lowered the flask from his lips and screwed it shut.

“Bean,” he started, his voice much more sure this time. “may I propose an unusual idea?”

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Shoot.”

Pendergast took a deep breath to calm himself. “I know you have to return to the ball eventually, but for the time we share in the garden… Could we pretend, all those years ago, we were friends?”

“You want to pretend to be in love?”

It wouldn’t be pretend, he thought to himself, but, “Yes.”

There was a silence that settled between them. Bean broke the silence with her quiet chuckle, shoulders bouncing as it grew into a laugh. “What do people in love do, anyway? Lame stuff like, hold hands and,” her joking tone turned sad. “maybe kiss and stuff?”

Pendergast raised a brow. “Have you never been in love?”

“I’ve been in lust.” She said. Bean folded her legs up beneath the skirt of her dress, and wrapped her arms around her knees, resting the bottoms of her boots against the ledge of the stone bench. “What’s it like?”

“It’s nothing like the books say. Looking at the one you love makes you feel pain in ways you didn’t know was possible.”

“So it’s… pain? That’s it?”

Pendergast shook his head. “No. Love seems to ease the pain you felt before love. Love is a presence, like a sense of belonging. It helps you sleep at night. It’s peace.”

Bean looked up at him with a grin. “Are you always this articulate?”

Pendergast returned the look, although his cheeks appeared more flushed. “I may have been reading a few more books than usual, lately. But to answer your question, people in love usually hold one another, kiss, show love in other intimate ways.”

Bean was hesitant to speak. She bit her lip, thinking about how to progress, before finally giving up and settling for, “Well, you’re the one whose been in love before. Show me how it’s done.”

His heart nearly skipped a beat. Taking only a second to think of what to do to show her his love, Pendergast tossed the flask away and sprung off the bench, and offered her his arm.

“Dance with me.” He saw the look of exasperation on Bean’s face, but quickly spoke over her, “It’s nothing like the dances they do in the ballroom. I promise.”

“None of those dumb moves that make me look like a duck?”

“No, none-“ He stopped himself to give her an exaggerated look of confusion.

Bean laughed and pushed herself off the bench. She took his right hand that he offered into her left hand, and tucked herself close against his chest. She could feel the warmth he radiated. It wasn’t often she got to see him out of his armour, but each time she did, it was definitely a treat. Bean opened her mouth to dumbly comment on his body heat, and to break up the silence between them, but thought it better not to.

They stepped slowly with Pendergast leading their dance. It wasn’t methodical or precise like what was expected of Bean, rather, it was slow and intimate. It was a gentle swaying of their bodies that eased them into the calming and warm effect of the rum they drank, and instead of the world tumbling their bodies around, the world spun around them.

Bean couldn’t help but lean further into Pendergast’s chest, pressing her cheek against the material of his uniform, and sighing upon hearing the faint beating of his heart. In turn, Pendergast dipped his head down to rest against the top of Bean’s, sighing in the euphoria of finally being close to her again.

“What do you call this dance?” Bean whispered, as not to disturb the enamoured air between them.

“I don’t know.” He whispered in return.

“Well… I like it. A lot.”

Pendergast hummed in response. She could feel it rumble in his chest.

He was so fortunate to have her near like this. He was able to hold her; feel her frame beneath his arm that wrapped around to the small of her back. She didn’t quite smell her usual sweetness - instead it was floral. He preferred her sweetness over the perfume.

“I…” Pendergast trailed off. She could hear his heartbeat quicken. “I love you.”

He could feel her stiffen, but only for a moment. “I… yeah. I love you, too.”

She tilted her head up to look Pendergast in the eye, before reaching up on her tip-toes to plant a small, gentle kiss on his lips. She offered him a lopsided smile, to ease the little expression of pain in his eye. When that didn’t work to raise his spirits, Bean planted yet another kiss upon his lips, this time she held it longer and prodded him on by deepening the kiss.

She felt his hand trail up her back to cup the base of her skull, while the other released its hold on her hand and pulled her so close against him. She reached her hands up to cradle his head, just behind his ears, and opened her lips ever so slightly as a gentle invitation into her mouth.

He parted his lips to slide his tongue between hers, gliding the tip just along the inside of her bottom lip. Bean let out a moan and pushed forward, taking his tongue further into her mouth and running her tongue over his. But there was a twinge in Pendergast’s stomach that turned into a twisted, uncomfortable pit.

Pendergast slowly pulled away, ending the kiss with a quiet smack as they parted. “I… I shouldn’t keep you too long.” He spoke quietly.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. You still have the entire night ahead of you.”

“But I thought-“

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He placed one last kiss on her forehead, before extending his arm for her to follow it.

Bean stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed and unsure of what had happened. She turned towards the cloister that housed the iron gate into the castle, but paused to turn and called out to him,

“You’ll always have a special place in my heart. You know that, Pendergast.”

Pendergast said nothing. He lifted his hand, as though it held the weight of the entire world, and waved it faintly. Bean waved in return, her arm high as though it possessed no effort to do so, and turned back towards the archway.

Pendergast watched until her figure disappeared through the archway lit by yellow light. The moment she was gone, his knees buckled beneath him and he sank to the bench in a heap. He was left breathless. He turned his attention to the moon, and allowed his tears to flow.

It was then Pendergast experienced regret at such a magnitude for the very first time.


End file.
